wishing only wounds the heart
by wild wolf free17
Summary: An anthology of oneshots, most crossover or AU.
1. motherhood

All of these will stand alone. Most are focused on Jason Teague from season 4, AU, or dark. Or all of the above.

* * *

**Title**: motherhood

**Disclaimer**: not my character; just for fun.

**Warnings**: none

**Pairings**: none

**Rating**: G

**Wordcount**: 145

**Point** **of** **view**: third

* * *

She's never been afraid of him. Despite everything he is, everything he can do… she's never been frightened by him. She found him(he found her) as a little boy, already stronger than Jonathan, than anything she'd ever seen before. He didn't even know his own power, but he never hurt her. Something in them connected.

(He only wanted a mother—she only wanted a son.)

And on that day of terror and pain, she got her dearest wish. She got a little boy she never had to worry about; car wrecks and disease could not touch him. All the things a mother feared, she could brush under the carpet and not give a second thought.

He's her baby boy, even as a man grown. He's still that boy she found(that boy who found her), that child she fell in love with in a scarred cornfield.


	2. the eyes that no one owns

**Title**: the eyes that no one owns

**Fandom**: "Supernatural"/"Smallville" crossover

**Disclaimer**: none of them are mine; written because… just 'cause. title from Anne Sexton.

**Warnings**: AU for "Smallville" during season four; AU for "Supernatural" pre-pilot

**Pairings**: none, really

**Rating**: PG13

**Wordcount**: 1150

**Point** **of** **view**: third

* * *

She was not always wealthy. In fact, as a young girl she was quite poor, living in the slums of London. She was a whore's daughter, never knew her father(or maybe she did—daughter of a whore, she became a whore herself, and might have even serviced him), and had no schooling to speak of. She had no prospects, no safe haven, and when old Marjorie told her a legend about dealmakers and crossroads, she wasted no time in following the instructions.

The demon came to her in the guise of a gorgeous man: tall, broad, dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes. By light of the moon, she'd never seen so beautiful a creature.

"What do you want?" the demon asked her, blue eyes turning red.

"Wealth," she answered. "More money than I could spend in a thousand lifetimes."

The demon nodded, reaching out to cup her cheek. "It is yours, my dear." He pulled her close, sealing his lips over hers.

The next night, one of her frequent clients, third cousin to the queen, asked her to marry him. She said yes and his fortune became hers.

o0o

In ten years, the demon came back for her. He caressed her face and brushed his stolen lips across her skin. "Would you like to make another deal?"

"You would do that?" she asked, gazing up at him with faux-innocence.

"Yes," he whispered. "There's a thorn in my side that I need to dispose of, and you provide the perfect opportunity."

"Tell me."

o0o

And so she was given a son in four years time. Henry was delighted, of course. Everyone told her what a beautiful child he was. She merely smiled up at them, cradling her boy, her salvation.

_Take care of him, _the demon had said, this time with yellow eyes. _He'll have an important part to play in the future. Raise him well. Keep him safe, and your deal will not come due. _

_And what do I name him?_ she inquired.

The demon shrugged. _It doesn't matter._

She named him Jason, after the man who won the Golden Fleece.

Her son would do even better.

o0o

Jason was smart and talented; but he lacked ambition. She taught him all she knew, provided the best teachers, and he still floundered. She gave him everything in the world and could tell he still wasn't happy.

She'd wondered for years where he came from, who the demon had stolen him away from. But she'd never gone searching. She figured there are some things a mother just didn't need to know. Maybe he'd be happy, though, if he knew what he was missing.

Not that he ever would. Not if she had anything to say about it. He was her boy, no one else's. Not anymore.

o0o

She had his entire life planned out, even the woman he would marry. So she sent him to Paris, knowing the girl he'd meet there, sweet and perfect Lana Lang.

When Jason followed Lana to Smallville, she wasn't surprised in the least, though Henry was pissed. It was all part of the plan, to keep Jason happy and safe, and if he wanted to be with the girl(like she knew he did), then she was content.

But Jason called her up, five weeks into his position at Smallville High, and just breathed over the line for a minute.

"Darling?" she asked, concerned. "Is everything alright?"

He scoffed. "You _bitch_."

She sucked in a breath. "Jason, what?"

His voice got low and mean, like she had never once heard him before. "You really thought I'd never find out?"

"Find out what, Jason?" She had a good idea, though.

"Goodbye." He said it softly. Concretely.

But she would not let him go without a fight, and she had a private jet taking her to Kansas within the hour.

o0o

She'd made it a point to know everything that happened in her son's life, so she knew exactly where to go to find him. If he wasn't at his dorm, he'd be at Lana's—she located him within ten minutes of setting foot in Smallville.

He was sitting in The Talon, sipping hot chocolate from a dark mug(her boy never had liked coffee) and across the small table from a man in a leather coat. Her breath caught as the man turned and she saw him in profile—he could be Jason, had Jason's life been any harder. Had Jason been only a few years older.

Jason looked past his double and met her eyes, his face shuttering. His double followed his gaze, eyes settling on her.

She had never been easily intimidated, and she'd come to reclaim her son. She'd raised him, given him anything he'd ever wanted, and she never lost.

"Jason, darling," she said, pausing by the table. "It's so good to see you."

"Hello," he responded, voice colder than she'd ever heard it. "Genevieve, I'd like you to meet my brothers, Dean and Sam Winchester."

She smiled at Dean, the one sitting at the table, and then stiffened as someone came up behind her, edged around her, to sit in the third chair.

Dean nodded to her, a sharp smile on his face. The other, Sam, had no expression as he said, "Ma'am."

"Jason," she said, "I don't know what these men have told you, but I swear they cannot be your brothers. Let's speak privately."

"You're not goin' anywhere alone with him," Dean interjected, voice slightly deeper than Jason's. Dangerous. "Ma'am," he added, with an ironic twist of his lips. "Since somehow you stole him, we don't trust you. You understand."

She wanted to be offended. "He is _my son_," she bit out, anger clouding her judgment about making a scene. "I've spent twenty-one years taking care of him!"

Dean met Sam's eyes, then Jason's. "It's your call," Sam said.

Jason looked up at her; she didn't recognize the expression in his eyes. "I told you," he said. "Goodbye."

She shook her head. "You're mine, Jason. And I'll get you back." She glanced at Sam, then Dean. "One way or the other." She strode from The Talon, defeat bitter on her tongue.

o0o

That night, as she paced in her mansion in London, the demon, the second demon that gave her Jason, came to her.

"You've failed," he said. "They were never supposed to meet, Jason and his brothers."

"Well, they have," she snarled, glaring at it. "So now what are you going to do?"

"We had a deal, whore," he murmured, trailing fingers along her jaw. "You failed to keep your end."

Fear shot through her. "No, please—I can still get him back."

"He's met Dean," the demon told her. "He will never go back. It's a strong bond, twinship. Even one cut by years."

She didn't understand, but the demon's fingers tightened around her neck and she never got the chance to ask.


	3. He ruined me, and I am rebegot

**Title**: He ruined me, and I am re-begot

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; just for fun. Title from Donne.

**Warnings**: future!fic; AU

**Pairings**: implied Lex/Clark

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 780

**Point** **of** **view**: second

**Notes**: so, seperis wrote a five things meme, and one of them was the single sentence _Clark said please_. Hence this.

* * *

He's wearing that stupid costume, the one the whole world has come to recognize.

"Lex!" he yells over gunfire. "Lex, where are you?"

You don't answer. He can't change this; it's too late, gone too far.

"Lex!" he screams. Bullets bounce off him and a few fools lunge at him, trying to take him down.

But he is Superman, the being who fell from the stars. He is what you wish to become: a god.

He closes his eyes in what looks like—in a lesser form—might be pain. You watch as he defeats the ground soldiers without killing them.

"Lex! Please! You can stop this, Lex!" He stares into the camera, his blue eyes wide. "Don't do this!"

You will be a good king, a modern-day Alexander the Great. The world will be better off with you.

His foolish cape flutters in the wind and his chest heaves as more cannon-fodder attack him.

Once, you called him friend. You would have done anything for him. You trusted him more than anyone, even yourself.

Once, you loved him. Now you—don't hate him, could never hate him. He changed you… made you a better man.

So you speak to him through the microphone. "I do this because of you, Superman."

He flinches. "Lex," he says again. "Why are you really doing this?"

"I'll end war, Superman. I'll give peace to the world." You touch the screen, memories welling.

"No, Lex," he yells up at you. "You won't. That much power is too much for any one man!"

You laugh. "And you, _Superman_? Do you have too much power?"

"Damn it, Lex!" he roars, lifting off the ground in his anger. "I don't want this! I never have."

You scoff, going to the console. One more button pushed and the greatest threat to your plan will be gone. "It doesn't matter whether you wanted it or not, _Kal-El_," you snarl. "You have it. You could rule the world."

"And what about you, Lex?" he demands. "Absolute power, remember?" He spins in the air, searching for you, ignoring your soldiers as they continue the barrage. "Whatever your intentions, you'll be corrupted."

You pause, look back at the screen. Once, he knew you better than anyone. Once, you trusted him. But he never returned the favor. He never told you the truth. You trusted him with every part of you, even the darkest, most twisted pieces, but he never… he didn't even give you the slightest crumb.

"Lex! Please!"

One slight push and he'll be gone. No longer a concern. No longer a reminder. No longer anything.

He is beautiful. Has always been beautiful, since that day he pulled you from the river. He was young, then, still learning. Now he is a man—he is Superman. He is the world's hero, the world's darling.

If you destroy him, no one will have the power to stop you. If you destroy him, no one will dare.

If you destroy him, there will never be a chance of going back.

"Lex…" He sinks to the ground, shoulders slumping. "Don't do this. It won't…" He sighs, looking up into the camera. All you see is the boy who saved you. He whispers, "Please."

Your hand drops to your side and you step back from the console. You had been sure the boy was dead, swallowed up by Superman.

But he stares up at you, through years and miles, and you collapse into your chair, breath caught.

"Please, Lex," he whispers again, tears on his face and in his voice.

You had loved him. You still love him, even wrapped in that terrible outfit, that eyesore, with the stupid cape.

"Clark," you say, the first time his name has passed your lips since Superman. "Clark, what can I do?"

"Let me come to you, Lex," he says.

You watch him waiting, ready to help. He is not a god.

He's that boy who pulled you from the river.

You leave the control room, taking off the kryptonite ring. Hurrying down the stairs, you call all your underlings and allies, telling them the change of plans.

He's waiting for you, surrounded by fallen cannon-fodder. He is untouched, beautiful, stardust given body. He fell from the sky, completely beyond human comprehension.

You stare at him, within reach for the first time since it all went to Hell.

"Lex." He doesn't move, letting you choose. You can finish the plan. You can still take the world.

He'll let you destroy him, and that takes your breath away.

You approach slowly, reaching up to touch his face. He is warm, but he shivers. "Lex," he murmurs. "Lex."

You say, "Clark."


	4. I find no peace, and all my war is done

**Title**: I find no peace, and all my war is done

**Fandom**: _Dead and Breakfast_/"Smallville" crossover

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; title from Sir Thomas Wyatt the Elder

**Warnings**: AU for _Dead and Breakfast_; AU for "Smallville"

**Pairings**: none

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 665

**Point** **of** **view**: third

* * *

After surviving the zombies in Lovelock and making sure the kids were safe, the Sheriff and Drifter stayed together for a few months before going their separate ways. The Sheriff was tired of dark magic and curses—he'd had his fill in Lovelock—and that's all the Drifter did: drift from place to place breaking them.

About a week after leaving the Drifter in a speck of a town called Smallville, the Sheriff found a kid covered in dust and stumbling down the road. He was bloody and bruised, muttering about how he couldn't find his mom.

The Sheriff planted himself in the kid's way and tried to catch his attention, but the boy—no more than twenty-five, if that—just went around him.

So he wasn't completely out of it, then.

"Hey, boy," the Sheriff said in his most commanding tone, grabbing the kid's shoulder.

The kid flinched from his touch, bringing a hand up to punch blindly. The Sheriff restrained him easily.

The kid's litany about his mother changed to "Let me go, let me go, _let me go_!" He bucked and kicked, repeating the same three words over and over.

The Sheriff backed away, holding his hands up. "Hey, now, calm on down there, friend," he said. "I just wanna look you over, get you some medical attention. You look mighty hurt."

The kid trembled in place, eyes hazel and huge. "I don't," he mumbled. "I have to find Mom."

"Well, how about this," the Sheriff said. "You come with me. There's a town about an hour's drive north. We'll get a doc to look you over, get you cleaned up some. You can sleep, eat somethin', and then we'll ask the police about your mama." He paused, waiting for the kid to say something. After a moment, he asked, "How's that sound?"

The kid said, "I have to find Mom."

Sighing, the Sheriff muttered, "Okey-dokey, then." He slowly stepped forward, keeping his hands in the kid's sight. "If you come with me, I promise to look for her."

Skittishly, the kid backed away, but he looked at the Sheriff. "You'll help me?"

The Sheriff nodded. "But first, we have to get you checked out. You're walkin' wounded, friend. I ain't even sure how you're still on your feet." The kid looked like he'd survived Lovelock's zombie massacre.

The Sheriff held out a hand. "Let me help you into my truck, friend. You won't find your mama if you collapse out here in the corn."

He stood still, waiting for the kid to make the first move. The kid shuffled closer, eyes shooting warily from the Sheriff's hand to his face and back. Finally, he stopped, barely in reach. "You'll help?" he asked again, clearly fighting unconsciousness.

"Sure as a cow gives milk," the Sheriff said. "I give you my word, boy."

"Jason," the kid said, wilting. As the Sheriff caught him, he added, "My name's Jason," and passed out.

"Well, alright," the Sheriff said. "Nice to meet you, Jason."

Jason was thin but strong; he'd been well take care of till recently. The Sheriff gave him a quick look over, but no wounds stood out. He was just bruised with lots of cuts. The Sheriff swung him up into a fireman's carry and brought him to the truck. Jason whimpered as the Sheriff buckled him in. "Sorry, friend," he murmured. "But I can't go lettin' you get even more beat up, can I? For now, you're my responsibility, ain't ya?"

The kid didn't answer, being unconscious and all, but the Sheriff said, "That's right, you sure are."

He closed the door and hurried around the truck, sliding in and gunning her. "Don't know how long you been wanderin', friend," he told Jason, "but you really should'a seen a doctor a while ago. It's time to be rectifying that."

He drove north, playing country music and singing along, occasionally reaching over to pat Jason's shoulder and saying, "It'll be alright now."


	5. villainy

**Title**: villainy

**Fandom**: Supernatural/Smallville

**Disclaimer**: not my characters

**Warnings**: AU for both shows

**Pairings**: none

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 100

**Point** **of** **view**: third

**Prompt**: Lex +or/ any, Lex was one of the YED's special children and he and Sam are the last ones standing

* * *

He doesn't have the flashiest of powers, or the greatest strength. But he is patient, and he is rich, and he is determined—above all—to win.

And when all but one other of Azazel's chosen are dead, he finally steps out of the shadows for a face-to-face confrontation.

Lex has an army waiting for his word, people handpicked over the last few years, and he has an intuition for how to bend the strings of reality to coerce things to his will.

Sam Winchester has a determination to match Lex's own, a lifetime of training, and his big brother.


End file.
